Masquerade
by SpookshowBabyx
Summary: Christmas Swan Queen one-shot set during season 2 (following the Welcome Home party). Word prompt piece- Masquerade.


**A/N:** _Happy Christmas :)_ _Apologies for cutting it so fine with this one. I'd planned on getting this up a couple of days ago, but my life is a bit all over the place at the moment (please note, this is the same reason I haven't updated my ongoing fics for a while. Neither of them are abandoned and I hope to get to them this coming week, but sorry for the wait!) This fic was taken from a prompt word (masquerade) given to me a couple of weeks ago, but I have to admit, it took on a mind of its own, and has much less to do with masquerades than I'd intended! I might do another one to try and rectify this fact, but for now, I hope you guys enjoy this Christmas fic for what it is :) I hope you all had a lovely day, and are enjoying your holidays/ your Tuesday._

 _Reviews would be the best present!:D_

* * *

"Sorry for the wait, I'll be with you shortly."

Granny assures the Mayor; not sounding very sorry at all. In fact, she barely offers the brunette a glance as she bustles past her to tend to the rowdy little group sat in one of the corner booths of the Diner.

"For heaven's sake..."

Regina bristles beneath her breath; deeming her ill-fated attempt to 'get some air' and try to soothe her nerves- a suggestion she now decides to blame fully on Sydney, given its failure- to have crashed and burned. Nothing about traipsing into town to get herself a nightcap of hot decaf is having the desired effect, as she remains unattended to, frustrated, and just a little deflated.

 _No, not deflated. What do_ I _care what that old bag thinks of me? Her rudeness is simply infuriating!_

She swiftly reprimands her inner musing, but the effect of her sharp tongue has worn off as much on herself as it has on others here in Storybrooke. No longer do they revere her with nervous and ill-placed loyalty. No longer is her word law in this little town. She has been exposed- pulled through the wringer and _tormented_ since the breaking of the curse- with all of her past transgressions now simply public gossip, and her charitable move to save her long ago nemesis and her idiot daughter conveniently forgotten.

"Should never have bothered."

She seethes through clenched teeth, but she knows deep down that she'd had little alternative but to help pull Mary Margaret and Emma from the well if she wished to maintain her relationship- already fractured- with Henry.

 _"No good deed goes unpunished."_

Gold had remarked without invite upon hearing of her silent dismissal from the imminent celebrations once she'd played her part, and she can't help but find his unwanted words to ring horribly true. Only Emma had seemed at all concerned with her existence once their merry band had regrouped; something she is still unsure what to make of, meaning she has resolved simply to avoid the blonde like the plague for the last couple of weeks as their lives return slowly back to normal.

 _Or as close as any of us will ever get to the term._

"One second."

Granny calls out to her now- holding up a finger without looking around- and Regina sighs as she wonders if it wouldn't be easier just to slip behind the counter and pour her coffee herself.

 _No, what would be_ easier _would be to just_ leave _... But that would also show an inexplicable hint of weakness. It would be out of character, and I can't allow that. I have already lost so_ much _of who I once was._

Offering the table that makes up a large percent of the noise a glower- the hour late, and unruliness not generally commonplace at Granny's, save for Leroy's occasional outbursts- the brunette sighs, observing raucous laughter and playful teasing of the likes she has never been a part of.

 _Not your style..._

She muses, as though this might help to alleviate the sting.

It doesn't.

"Right, what can I get you?"

Granny grunts as she makes her way back over with an unheeded gesture that her noisy table quieten down. Regina doesn't think this is likely to happen, as she has seen what tends to happen when Ruby moves from wine onto shots.

 _Especially during a full moon._

Pursing her lips, she mutters that she would like a decaf cappuccino, and when Granny asks if she wants it to go, she merely lets out an exasperated hiss as she gestures pointedly towards the women behind her.

 _Yes, I want it to go. Do you believe I wish to_ stay _and listen to that racket?!_

"Oh no!"

Comes a shriek, as Ruby sends one of the empty wine bottles tumbling from the table to roll across the floor, and in all honesty, as Regina puts a halt to its hollow clattering, she is hardly _surprised_ at this acceleration of events.

What _does_ surprise her are the unmistakable golden curls of the woman that pushes herself up to retrieve the bottle currently wedged beneath the heel of her pointed boot. After all, her _hair_ is all that is currently identifiable, as the Sheriff wears a simple green shirt that strikes the brunette as uncharacteristically flattering, and a black mask constructed mostly of lace that forms the shape of a butterfly.

 _I wouldn't have pegged_ Miss Swan _to be the sort for all that nonsense, either..._

No. Of course, this in no way impedes her belief that Nonsense and the ever vexing Sheriff come as a package deal, but she has never known Emma to be particularly exuberant, nor bursting with the good cheer that seems to encapsulate the small gathering she herself hasn't been invited to be a part of.

 _Invited._

 _"I invited her."_

That curious statement- true, but no less troublesome for it- uttered not two weeks ago in this very room. Even the banner- slightly lopsided now- welcoming mother and daughter home remains strung up in the window like an omen.

"Sorry about that."

Emma offers- gesturing towards the escaped wine bottle- and Regina thins her lips as the blonde bows down to her in order to retrieve it from beneath her heel.

"What on earth are you _doing_?"

The Mayor demands in return, offering the others sat at the table- Mary Margaret, Ruby, Ashley, and a young woman she can't place wearing a blue mask dotted with sequins- a withering look as though they might be up to something criminally nefarious, rather than simply seeming a little on the tipsy side.

"Enjoying ourselves..."

Emma replies coolly; holding the retrieved bottle against the sharp point of her hip as green eyes capture dark coals from behind sultry lace. She _almost_ suggests that the Mayor- or rather, the _Queen_ , now that everything's out in the open- might like to try doing the same for herself sometime, but in the end she refrains. Not so much out of tact, but rather as she simply can't be bothered to argue when she has a pleasant buzz going and means to have a good night.

"Incognito?"

Regina asks, gesturing towards the younger woman's curious disguise, and Emma shrugs; her lips painted a darker hue than usual, which the Mayor concludes to be down to the merlot bottle still half full behind them, rather than any attempt on the blonde's behalf to put in any more effort than absolutely necessary.

 _Not true. Yes, her lips are bloody only with wine, but she's tamed her hair, and she's wearing something that smells... Pleasant._

"The Rabbit is hosting a Christmas Masquerade Ball kind of thing."

"A Ball 'kind of thing'..."

Regina repeats snidely, but it has been quite some time since her tone alone serves to fluster the Sheriff, and Emma merely rolls her eyes and sighs.

"Listen, when you grow up in the world I did, that kind of dubious terminology is totally okay."

"Oh, yes, sometimes I _forget_ that 'Poor Orphan Emma' role lets you get away with whatever you like."

The brunette replies, having meant for her sarcastic impatience to match the blonde's, but understanding that she's missed the mark as she all too often does when she receives a hard look rather than the irritable sigh she'd been aiming for.

"...I just meant the only 'balls' I've ever been to have been held in a sports-hall with some kid being escorted out with vomit painting the front of his dad's shirt."

Emma retorts coldly, and any further conversation is denied, as she turns away and stalks back to her table with a stony farewell of

"Merry Christmas Eve, Madame Mayor."

She doesn't wait for a reply.

* * *

 _Emma S, 22.48pm:_

 _Go to bed, or forget Santa, **I** won't come drop by on you for Christmas! x_

Emma sighs and accepts a shot of Sambuca handed to her by Ruby; knocking it back habitually before shuddering and wondering belatedly whether doing so was a good idea. She makes a quick tally in her head of the various mix of drinks she's consumed this evening with a mild hint of trepidation for her future self waking up tomorrow after such an eclectic concoction, meanwhile reading the text she's just sent Henry with her brow furrowed in tipsy concentration. Deeming her inebriated parenting to be inarguably exemplary, she smirks beneath her mask as Mary Margaret attempts to follow her lead.

"Are you doing okay? You're not feeling sick or anything are you?"

The long-ago Princess turned school teacher asks, and Emma nods dutifully, as though she _hasn't_ spent the last half hour watering Mary Margaret's drinks down when the latter wasn't looking. She has seen and heard enough by now to fully accept that Snow White back in her hay day was no desperate Disney Princess, but she has lived with Mary Margaret long enough to know that the older woman generally calls it quits after a glass or two of wine.

"Good. That's good."

Mary Margaret nods, giving her watered down gin a studious glower, before leaning over to tap Ruby on the shoulder; allowing the pale blue dress she'd pulled from the back of her closet to gape open and expose the nude cups of her bra.

" _Mom!_ "

Emma hisses, before catching herself- giving her _own_ drink a distrustful glance- and grunting as this choice of address earns her a tight embrace from Mary Margaret, who shouts into her ear in order to be heard over the music; pushing one of the spokes of her floral themed mask into the blonde's cheek.

"This is nice!"

"Yeah."

"And you said you weren't sure about coming..."

"How foolish of me."

Emma replies with a hint of sarcasm, feeling the warm thrum of alcohol working its magic and allowing ordinarily tight limbs to relax, but unable to disregard her role as their town's sole law enforcement as she keeps an eye on a rather passionate debate taking place between a couple of men bookending a young woman with thick coils of black hair.

"I'm so happy we're back."

"Me too."

She agrees with her mother's slightly slurred admission, this time without any hint of scorn.

"You look so pretty. I love you so much!"

Mary Margaret insists earnestly, and the blonde blushes beneath black lace, but offers her housemate, turned friend, turned mother a brief squeeze.

"Uhuh."

"Everything is just so _wonderful_ now."

Snow gushes, almost tearfully, and Emma grins as she casts a glance over at Ruby who has left them to accept the offer of a dance- Ashley and Imogen begging their leave half an hour ago to relieve Ashley's sitter- and she slips from her stool while pulling Mary Margaret along with her.

"It seems to be, but I think that's _probably_ a sign to be heading home."

She laughs, before coming to an abrupt stop when struck by the unsolicited memory of her exchange back at Granny's with Regina.

 _Ever the grumpy bitch._

She muses, although she does so halfheartedly; lacking any real conviction. In truth, she doesn't really see the Mayor that way- _however_ skilfully Regina might go about striving to instil such a reputation- as she understands what the others seem adamant to ignore: the Queen has fallen.

She imagines that's a pretty lonely place to be.

 _Especially this time of year..._

The thought hits her before she can help it, and just as she has every other time the topic has come to mind, she suffers an unpleasant blend of wariness, righteousness and guilt. She's excited to have Henry stay at theirs for her first family Christmas- having informed the Mayor that she'd pick him up after breakfast, as though that might somehow make the situation any better- but she's not sure how to deal with the disquiet that comes with knowing she is also denying Regina from spending Christmas with her son for the first time. She doesn't share her parents' resentment towards the Queen that allows them to approach the situation without a shred of doubt– she just can't bring herself to see things that way. She doesn't exactly _trust_ the brunette- she's not as foolish as Regina might like to suggest- but she doesn't _dislike_ her, either. What had happened at Granny's towards the end of the Welcome Home party had been uncomfortable, but it hadn't been terrible.

There had been a moment.

A moment where both she and the once Evil Queen had understood each other, at least a little.

Since then, things have been awkward. As she had predicted- and _insisted_ would be the case when warned to stay alert by her parents- she has received no threat from Regina since the breaking of the curse, save for the darker woman's usual sharp tongue and disdainful approach to her very existence. There have been no attempts made to put herself- or _any_ of Storybrooke's patrons- to any harm, and all in all things have been peaceful since her return from the Enchanted Forest.

Miserably so.

She'd never thought she'd see the day, but she supposes she almost _misses_ the way things had once been with the brunette. Not the fighting, not the sly underhand moves the Mayor was so adept at making, but the queer sense of mutual respect- however warped!- that had manifested itself underneath all of the drama before the incident with the Wraith had put a stop to any further developments; landing them in entirely different realms from one another.

 _I tried to help her, though... And she knew it. She_ accepted _it._

 _She helped me- us- too._

 _I invited her that night because I didn't get why no one_ else _had done so already! Someone with a little less on their plate!_

 _Why the hell_ shouldn't _she have been invited? She's_ one _of us._

 _Well... Maybe that's pushing it, but-_

-But, looking around the packed bar now, as many of the people she has come to know and recognise dance, laugh and celebrate the fast approaching holiday, Emma can't help but feel a little morose. She has absolutely no _delusion_ that Regina would enjoy the rowdy buzz of the Rabbit as midnight draws close, but she has a pretty comprehensive wealth of experience when it comes to not being taken into consideration at times when that lack of interest really stings, and as she ushers Mary Margaret outside after a brief farewell squeeze from Ruby, she casts a glance down at her phone before slipping it back inside her jacket.

11.23pm.

No follow up text from Henry, who appears to have taken her mild Christmas threat to heart. And not quite midnight. Not quite as late as she'd been expecting.

"Let's go."

Mary Margaret urges, in spite of the fact that it is Emma who steers them towards the exit and out into the cold.

"Woah!"

Snow shivers, and the blonde grins as she hands her mother her coat which she'd left draped over her bar stool, before raising her hand and hailing one of the few cabs stood idling outside the Rabbit.

"Leroy! I didn't know this was your gig?"

Emma greets as an old station wagon with makeshift 'taxi' signage pulls up close to them.

"Jolly celebration isn't really my game, sister. But the pay's good. I pick my hours to play driver wisely."

He informs them as they get in, and the blonde nods as she quips sarcastically

"I just hope for once you're more sober than we are."

Sneaking a glance at Snow in the rearview mirror- the long ago Princess slumped in her seat with a contented smile on her face- the dwarf smirks.

"I reckon that's a safe assumption. Don't worry, I won't give you cause to pull out your badge tonight, Sheriff."

"Given that I've left it on my nightstand, that would be appreciated."

Emma grins, and when he throws her a mockingly stern look, she shrugs and admits a little uneasily

"I'm still trying to get back into the swing of things. I've had a lot on my plate."

Finding no room for argument there, they make their way to Mary Margaret's apartment in comfortable silence; the journey taking little more than five minutes with the streets deserted save for a light dusting of snow.

"Call it an even seven dollars; my gift to you."

Leroy grunts, and Emma rolls her eyes at his charitable 'gesture' of knocking two cents of their fare.

"Thanks, but we're just dropping Mary Margaret off. I have a little further to go."

Grumbling at this from the dwarf, and a confused frown from Snow as she hesitates with her car door open and one foot touching the pavement.

"What? Where are _you_ going?"

"I just have to sort something out real quick."

"What could you need to sort out this late on Christmas Eve?!"

"Never you _mind_ , what. Maybe it's something to do with your gift."

"Is it?"

"... I said _maybe_."

"But-"

"-Meter's still running, sister."

Leroy interrupts, and Emma takes this opportunity to shoo Mary Margaret from the car, before calling out suddenly

"Wait!... Can I borrow your mask?"

* * *

"Thanks."

Leroy grunts as the Sheriff hands him a twenty dollar bill and tells him to keep the change. He considers asking her yet again if she's sure she wishes to be left outside the _Mayor's_ house of all places, but decides that some things are best left unsaid. He has no wish to ferry the blonde back home should she suddenly change her mind, and so he leaves her stood outside the gates to Mifflin Place, looking really rather odd with the black butterfly wings obscuring most of her face.

Raising her hand as she waits for Leroy to turn around and head off home, Emma nips at her lip and pops the collar of her jacket up against the winter chill, meanwhile wondering if she's not half _mad_ for checking in on her self-proclaimed nemesis at quarter to midnight on Christmas Eve.

 _Now that I think about it, it just seems like a_ great _way to get scolded for imposing at an unsociable hour._

The blonde sighs, although it appears that this concern at least might be unfounded. Frowning as she makes her way down the driveway, Emma slows her pace as she spies a dark silhouette outlined by pretty white lights strung up among the skeletal branches of the apple tree she had once taken a chainsaw to in the heat of passion.

 _The heat of passion is something I've experienced on_ several _occasions when it comes to Regina... I'll give her that for what it's worth. She most certainly keeps me on my toes._

"Hey."

She greets warily as she steps from dark tarmac onto snow-dusted grass, and the Mayor whirls around in surprise and takes step back.

"What the hell do _you_ want?"

She asks once she's identified her intruder beyond any doubt; an easy feat despite Miss Swan still wearing the same mask she'd worn earlier.

"I don't know."

Emma shrugs, and her reply is so transparently honest that the brunette falters for a moment; not sure what breed of venom might best suit this scenario, and so opting for silence instead.

It is a silence that the younger woman matches as she completes her approach; coming to a halt barely more than a foot away from the woman who had once sought to murder her with little effort to keep her wishes a secret.

"Miss Swan, it's late. I have no time for games."

Regina snaps when the younger woman makes no move to elaborate on her reason for being here. Curling her fists inside the silk-lined pockets of her coat, the brunette's brow furrows deeper as she warns

"And, if you've come to collect Henry, then-"

"-No. No I'm not here for that."

Emma shakes her head, and when they find themselves once more lost for words, she merely holds out her hand; offering the darker woman the delicate floral mask she'd taken from Snow.

"What's this?"

Regina demands.

"A mask."

The blonde replies, and she meets the Mayor's eye-roll with calm serenity in spite of the chill that causes her to shiver.

"I can _see_ that. Why?"

"Because... Everyone I've grown close to over the last year has either celebrated with me tonight, or earlier on in the day. That's a _first_ for me; having people around I want to spend time with, _especially_ for the holidays... I've spent time with everybody today, apart from _you_ , Regina, and like it or not, _you're_ one of the people I know _best_ in this town."

"... I would offer you a response to that statement, but self-pity is rather unbecoming."

"So don't. Let that be your gift to me; allow me just a _fraction_ of your time without feeling the need to bring me down."

"My dear, I-"

"-I didn't think to invite you tonight. That was wrong of me."

"Yes, well... A good thing, too. You think I'd _wish_ to partake in such _foolishness_?"

Regina snarls, casting a disdainful glance down towards the mask Emma holds out to her. She takes care not to let it show as she finds appreciation for some of the finer detailing surrounding the eyeholes.

"Nope... No, I don't think you would have enjoyed yourself. The music choice was mostly poor, the drinks were average, and The Rabbit certainly doesn't host an event like those in Henry's book... Like those you will have been to before."

"Well, then-"

"-But we still could have _asked_ if you wanted to join us."

"Why subject yourself to the embarrassment when you know the answer?"

"Embarrassment? You think you're the first woman to turn me down?"

Emma grins, and when this query earns her a confused pursing of painted lips, she sighs and lowers her hand; keeping the mask held against her hip rather than offered out hopefully between them.

"I wouldn't have been _embarrassed_. Frustrated at your _insistence_ to turn an attempt at friendship into some hideous, unforgivable sin? Sure. But... I have thicker skin than to let that bother me. I just think it would have been right to _invite_ you. Maybe Mary Margaret would have disagreed, and I doubt Ruby would have been too keen, but just like your shooting me down isn't anything I'm going to go home and cry over, nor would their apprehension have given me much cause to lose sleep."

"One might say that seems rather selfish."

"I'm sure 'one' _would_ , if that one was _you._ "

"Yes, well... You've invited me to gatherings where I wasn't wanted before... You saw how _that_ turned out."

"... We talked. Was that so terrible? And I invited you because I _did_ want you there... Maybe that wasn't enough, but I can only speak for myself."

"You said _Henry_ wanted me there."

"Which was _true!_... If I'd told you the wish was _mine_ , would you have come?"

"I'd have thought you mad."

"Well, _that's_ hardly anything new!"

"No... I suppose not."

Regina agrees, and after a moment's hesitation, she holds out her hand to accept the mask; taking care to look suitably perturbed as she does so. Slipping it on, dark eyes meet green behind intricate lace, before the Queen casts her gaze back towards the apple tree.

"Before _you_ came here, it never stood bare. Regardless of the season, my tree bore fruit. _Now_ look."

Emma does as has been asked of her; observing naked limbs- black against their midnight backdrop- and the pretty lights trussed up against rough bark. Below, and scattered around them, apples stud the snowy lawn; frozen in time before getting a chance to rot.

" _One_ day, Regina, perhaps you might find something you _don't_ blame me for."

The blonde sighs, and to her surprise, the Queen laughs wickedly, before admitting quietly

"I blame the _curse_ , Miss Swan. I blame poor choices and cruel fate. You play your part in some of that, don't get me wrong, but I don't hold you _solely_ responsible. Not anymore."

"No, well, you have my mom to even it out a little."

The Sheriff growls, before surprising the brunette when she muses

"I _wonder_ , though... If you hadn't have hated me as was my birth right, perhaps we could have been friends."

"Doubtful."

Regina sneers, although when her scorn receives a small nod of agreement rather than righteous backlash, she allows herself a swift sideways glance at the woman who stands shivering beside her.

"... Is that _really_ why you came here? To invite me to an event already passed?"

"I told you, I don't _know_ exactly why I came, just that I felt that I should... A good thing, too. What the hell are you _doing_ loitering outside?"

"I wasn't _loitering._ I was thinking!"

"There are warmer places to do that."

"But none as peaceful, until I was so _rudely_ interrupted."

"... If that's really how you see it, then I'm sorry."

"Of _course_ that's how I see it."

The brunette snaps.

 _Lies. She lies._

Emma concludes, but she doesn't push the matter further. Instead, she merely joins the Mayor in contemplating the fallen fruit at their feet, before raising a brow as she spies several apples bobbing in the nearby water barrel; the surface of which has just begun to glaze over with ice. Looking from the barrel to the Queen- elegantly beautiful in the sleek black wool of her coat and scarlet petals shrouding her features; dark as life-blood beneath the moon- she ignores the familiar twinge she often gets low in her stomach when dealing with Regina, and stalks over to prod at the icy scum with her fingers.

"What _are_ you doing?"

The Mayor frowns, and the younger woman offers her a sultry smirk as she jokes lamely

"Breaking the ice."

Joking aside, the freezing water hurts her fingers, but her job is swiftly done, and she shoves her abused hands into the pockets of her jeans and waits for Regina to give in to curiosity and take a couple of steps closer.

"What?"

The Queen demands dubiously, drinking in red leather and the dark green lapels of the blonde's shirt just visible beneath. She'd noticed earlier that the Sheriff has buttoned this latter garment distracting low, although, as always, she'd forbidden herself to dwell on this discovery.

 _It's hardly anything new... Miss Swan seems to have a_ penchant _for forgetting to dress herself fully._

True, at least some of the time, but it is something she has stopped bullying the younger woman for as much as she once had.

After all, she would hate to put a stop to this particular practice.

 _Really?_

Really.

"Isn't that something you guys would do at balls back in the Forest? Bobbing for apples?"

"... _Children's_ gatherings perhaps. And I do wish you would stop _calling_ it that. I hail from the _Enchanted_ Forest. _All_ of us do save for yourself and Henry. I lived in a _castle_. As you well know."

"Oh well, _excuse_ me, Your Majesty."

Emma rolls her eyes, looking a little like a fictional sorceress stood behind the water barrel and its chilly offering with half of her face laced in black.

"Excused."

Regina sniffs, before shaking her head when the intensity behind the younger woman's stare demands an answer to her previous question.

"I might have played such a game when I was young. Never as an adult. Never at a _ball_! Let alone a _masquerade_."

"What about now? Would you play now?... Only, I'd offer you a dance or something instead, but I'm not sure I dare to."

"I would deny you it."

The brunette scoffs, which earns her a grin and the low admission of

"Yeah. Then I really _would_ have to be embarrassed."

A chuckle at this before the Queen can help herself, and she glares at the blonde accordingly.

"I see. You find it preferable to trespass late at night and challenge me to a children's party game in the freezing cold?"

"... _Or,_ you could invite me in. Your move."

"Certainly not."

"Well, then."

Emma shrugs, and Regina narrows her eyes; framed by scarlet blossoms.

"What do you _gain_ from this, Miss Swan? What do you get if I indulge you in this nonsense?"

 _Nonsense. Always such nonsense with you, dear._

"What do I _get_?... Nothing... Well, no, I guess _now_ I also get the satisfaction of knowing just how uncomfortable you're finding my attempt at being friendly."

"You're asking me to dunk my head in a barrel."

"True. Imagine if I had wanted to _flirt_ with you!"

" _Ha!_ "

Regina lets out a noise somewhere between laughter and surprise, before accepting the queer challenge the blonde has laid out for her.

"Fair enough. If it means that you'll leave me be, I'll play."

"Yippee."

The younger woman grunts sarcastically. The brunette thins her lips, before allowing them to spread into a slow smile.

"Go on then, dear. As it's your game, you may go first in this practice of utter pointlessness."

"But, you-"

"-I insist."

Regina pushes, and she finds it amusing that the blonde seems to falter as she glances back down at ice water and apples.

 _Perhaps realising what a childish, ridiculous idea this all is._

The Queen muses, although she is unable to deny that Emma's surprise appearance tonight has made her feel... well, something.

 _Thought of._

 _Considered._

 _Ridiculous._

Yes. Such an intrusion is just the breed of rudeness she has long associated with the blonde, and the ball of warmth in her gut as she stares down familiar cool green behind black lace is surely the onset of _illness_ rather than anything so fanciful as a thawing of the ice between them that has existed for as long as she can remember.

 _Hell, it existed before I even_ met _you. Since you were_ born _, dear!_

Not that getting herself acquainted with the ever vexing woman had helped matters much.

 _No. Nor the confusion I sometimes feel when around you. Like I want to strangle you, hurt you, punish you, and... I don't know. Something else. All at the same time._

"Go on then."

She goads, aware of the stippling of the blonde's pale skin- what has been left visible of her throat and sternum- as the moon looms large and cold above them. She knows that their breath would be visible if there were better light to see it, yet she's committed to seeing this curious exchange through to its conclusion- whatever _that_ might be!- and so refrains from turning heel and marching inside; leaving the Saviour stood out in the snow.

"Honestly, I guess it _was_ a bit of a pointless suggestion."

Emma shrugs as she wonders what she'd hoped to gain from suggesting they partake in something so dumb. She'd simply been grasping at straws. Trying to lighten the mood between them from its usual dangerous tension she's never gotten used to (but nor does she hate). In all honesty, she'd been expecting Regina to call her out and shoot her down. When the brunette does _that,_ she guesses she kind of _does_ like it. The darker woman's tongue can be wickedly sharp, but there's something strangely satisfying about receiving its lashings. Something pleasurable in the knowledge that she is able to crawl beneath the Mayor's skin. Muss up her hair.

 _You mean ruffle her feathers... Mussing up her hair would be something else entirely..._

Emma groans inwardly; glad that she stands hesitantly over a barrel of old apples, as that might easily explain the blush she can feel heating her cheeks.

"It was an _entirely_ pointless suggestion, but I have never known _you_ to back down. You proposed this-... are we going to be so kind as to call it a _game_?... Follow through, Sheriff. Taste my fruit."

"Do you _hear_ yourself when you say these things?"

"Do you _see_ yourself before leaving the house of an evening?"

It's a cheap retort, and she knows it. As suspected, it garners her very little response, and she supposes that's alright. She's given up on trying to sound convincing when she challenges the blonde's appearance. Given up on trying to convince _herself_ that she doesn't like what she sees.

 _Not this again..._

"I had a _quick_ glance, yeah."

Emma tosses her hair back and adjusts her mask pointedly, her eyes bright and challenging the darker woman to comment on the subject further.

 _Daring_ her to.

"Yes, well... The fact you still went out clad in that _eyesore_ of a carcass speaks volumes."

Regina sniffs, before clenching her jaw when the blonde simply strips off red leather and lets it fall into the snow.

"Better?"

"...In that I might yet be shot of you should you succumb to hypothermia: much. Other than that? A poor move, don't you think? Ice water and thin cotton, and all just to make some _pathetic_ point. You'll freeze."

"But, I'll look good doing it."

Emma grins, and dark eyes roll prettily as the Mayor gestures with practiced impatience that the younger woman should just get on with it.

"You'd be _surprised_ what I can handle, Madame Mayor."

The Sheriff smirks as she grips the sides of the barrel with pale hands.

"I'm not so _sure_ you could surprise me anymore, dear."

Regina sighs, and she relishes the frown this statement earns her, before suffering a similar barb of irritation when the blonde mutters

"Yeah, I guess that makes _two_ of us."

Any further retort is denied however, as Emma finally makes good on her suggested game and leans over the barrel in an attempt to sink her teeth into the bobbing fruit. Had she done so only a moment ago, the Queen might have found her resignation to do so amusing. She might have found some _humour_ in the way the younger woman struggles while chuckling- and spluttering- under her breath.

But she's irritated.

Irritated at Emma's suggestion that she might find her predictable.

Boring.

So easily read.

Irritated all the more that the blonde and her idiot parents think it their right to take her son away on Christmas day, just because of hurt feelings over a curse cast years ago.

Irritated that her words ring false: she _had_ been surprised.

She's surprised Emma would choose to come here, when she should be celebrating with the aforementioned idiots. Instead, the blonde stands shivering beneath the stars; humouring a woman who is likely the closest thing she's ever had to a mortal enemy.

The soft glow of the fairy lights catches pale curls, and the dark green of the younger woman's shirt contrasts prettily with the exposed skin of her nape; the vertebrae just visible. Vulnerable as she bends over the barrel.

Feeling that warm ache in her stomach grow, demanding something from her- just what, she isn't sure- the Queen acts on impulse; picturing every argument, every transgression, every run in she's ever had with the Saviour, while keeping dark eyes trained on generous curls and the way green cotton- almost black in the current light- has been tucked into tight jeans almost completely, but has come away at the back to show a thin slice of startlingly white flesh.

She acts without thinking.

Grabbing a hold of the blonde's collar, she seizes it in her fist and pulls down; forcing the younger woman under water. The tremor that passes through flailing limbs is as amusing as it is curious; the shock of the ice and the sudden lack of oxygen causing the Sheriff's heart to skip a beat. The complete unexpectedness of Regina's treachery has her swallowing water- choking on it as the pitted skin of a fallen apple brushes against her cheek- before she finally manages to grab hold of the Mayor's wrist; digging her nails in hard in order to demand her release.

"What the _fuck_!?"

She cries as she staggers backwards; coughing fitfully and red-eyed. The front of her shirt is soaking wet and she shivers violently as she struggles to catch her breath.

" _Why_!? Why d-did you-"

She stammers, pushing at her mask which has been knocked askew during her struggle. She shoves it up so that it covers one eye; the other regarding the Queen with naked shock.

"It appears I am able to surprise you _still_ , Miss Swan."

Regina merely smirks, but the expression falls when rather than argue or snap back at her as she'd been anticipating, Emma simply turns heel and stalks away, still trying to catch her breath, and apparently rather more upset than had perhaps been the plan.

 _So? Who cares?_

 _... Damn it._

"Emma, wait!"

The brunette calls after her, feeling irrationally guilty given who it is she's dealing with.

"Fuck off!"

The Sheriff snaps over her shoulder, her voice hoarse and breathing audible.

"No, come on, please. Emma, I'm _sorry_!"

Regina tries, never imagining she'd see the day when she would be apologising so genuinely to any one of the Charmings, but she feels bad for her moment's cruelty in a way that she never has before.

"Why the hell did you _do_ that?!"

The younger woman croaks, and in spite of the fury still evident in the way she holds herself, she stops her angry marching and turns to face her unwilling host. Her eyes are wide and her lashes are wet, and the Queen takes note of the way her shirt clings wetly to her shoulders and chest with a mixture of irritable pity and curious appreciation.

Unable to come up with an answer she imagines would be deemed satisfactory, she sighs and reaches out to straighten the blonde's mask which remains askew and caught up in her curls. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Emma greets this gesture with a defensive jerk backwards, causing black lace to obscure her vision entirely above the angry flash of her teeth.

"Regina, just-"

But she stills, breath caught in her throat, as the Queen threads warm fingers swiftly into her sodden locks and brushes painted lips against hers. A sly flicker of velvet teases her for just a moment, before the darker woman takes a step back and lets her go.

"Wh-at..."

Emma rasps, although her difficulty getting the word out can no longer be solely blamed on her recent misfortune under water. She pushes her mask back into place, eying the brunette warily.

"I believe you owe me an apology, Miss Swan."

"Wh- _me_?! You just tried to fucking _drown_ me! And then you... You..."

She trails off with a frown.

 _After all, what the hell_ was _that?!_

She runs her tongue over her bottom lip experimentally; tasting the subtle sweetness of the Mayor's lipstick.

"I believe I might just have it in me to surprise you _yet._ "

Regina smirks; her heart hammering at an impossible pace as her blood thrums in her ears and that low ache in her stomach seems suddenly both intensified and all the more pleasurable for it.

"Oh... Yeah. Maybe."

Emma agrees breathlessly, appearing completely dazed by the situation she's landed herself in.

"Definitely."

Regina insists, before bending down and picking up Emma's jacket. She hands it to the Sheriff who takes it as if in a trance, before turning for her mansion and speaking softly over her shoulder.

"Well, dear, it's late, and I should catch some rest given that I'm being _forced_ to celebrate my Christmas with Henry so early."

"Oh... Yeah... Um... I took a cab here, so..."

"Well, that was rather _ill_ thought out of you, wasn't it?"

"I guess... I..."

Emma searches for something to say; hair wet and beginning to crisp against her shirt, her lips appearing dark with cold and her entire demeanour uncertain.

Enjoying this fact, Regina merely makes her way up the steps to the front door without looking back; her bluff backfiring when she catches the sound of the blonde's footsteps retreating through virgin snow. Turning around, she scolds waspishly

"Don't be so idiotic. You _can't_ walk home like that. You're wet."

"Whose fault is _that?!_ "

Emma growls, suffering a moment's private amusement which swiftly becomes uncomfortable confusion as she feels the Queen's words might be taken _several_ ways. Touching her fingers to her lips uncertainly, she turns to regard the brunette to see what Regina means to suggest. The decision appears to be a difficult one, as the darker woman stands with her brow furrowed and her hands clenched inside her coat, before offering quietly

"Get inside. It's Christmas. And you're an idiot."

" _There_ it is."

Emma sighs, doing as she's told and hurrying over. She's beginning to lose feeling in her hands and feet, but she refuses to let such weakness show.

"There _what_ is?"

Regina demands.

"Your _predictable_ side again. No more surprises, it would seem. We're back to name calling and feigning hatred."

"Feigning?"

The Mayor asks dangerously.

"I'm going to say so, yeah."

Emma shrugs, but she lifts her jaw boldly as she follows the brunette into the warmth of her hall.

Rolling her eyes, Regina pushes back; refusing to allow this strangest of evenings to end on any other note but definite victory.

"You can _say_ whatever you like... I've still won. I _surprised_ you, whether you wish to admit it or not, so-"

But the rest is lost as it becomes a shocked yelp; her shoulders making sharp contact with the heavy wood of the door as intricate scarlet petals chafe her cheeks, and sharp teeth lay claim to her bottom lip.

"Bitch!"

She hisses, bit not without digging her nails into the blonde's shoulders to keep her from pulling away, and Emma laughs wickedly as she trails her attention to the hollow of the Queen's jaw.

"It's my gift to you, on this happy, happy day..."

"Oh, god."

Regina sighs, rolling dark eyes behind closed lashes, while blindly working the buttons of the younger woman's shirt.

"What? Too much?"

Emma teases, slipping her hands beneath the Queen's coat to play over soft curves.

"From _me_? Never. From _you_... Laughable."

"Good."

" _Good_?"

The brunette demands breathlessly as she tugs green cotton free of rough denim; not having imagined Emma would allow her to win- again- so easily.

"Sure... I came here not knowing what I planned to say or do. I just knew I wanted to make you smile. It's Christmas."

The blonde shrugs with a hitch in her breath as the Queen's wandering hands hone in on lace cups.

"It is."

Regina agrees, before beginning to move with greater purpose; shutting the younger woman up.

Stealing her breath.

Denying her time to speak, only to feel and to reciprocate.

After all, she can't allow Emma to say it.

Can't allow her to point out the clear fact of the matter.

That she's won.

That her reason for coming here goes _beyond_ their game, and can't be vocalised ever again. It's too dangerous. It's not how they do things.

 _None_ of this is how they do things.

None of this makes any sense, only... It does.

It really _does_.

Which is alarming. Terrifying. Exciting. And somehow the _least_ surprising thing to have happened all evening.

"Regina-"

"-Don't."

The Mayor warns; breathing fast and heavy as skilful fingers play nimbly over the slick silk covering her sex.

"Happy Christmas."

Emma ignores her warning with a smirk; knowing exactly what it is they would be foolish to say.

"Ugh, what a line... But... You too, Miss Swan... Now shut up unless you mean to give me a present."


End file.
